Among Two Storms
by Dr.Lust
Summary: AU, post-Ring: Eomer King's life is lonely and predictable, until he makes an unexpected friend. All seems simple, but the storm of events that will introduce him to a whole new world is just waiting to break out! Possible love triangle. Details inside.
1. Of Ages Past

**A/N**

AU: The story takes place mostly on Middle Earth. It combines elements from the books, the movies, the mmorpg LOTRO and also Norse Mythology and the Thor comics. Known characters' personalities are canon as much as possible.

Summary: The Races of the Cosmos made Middle Earth in the place of Old Earth, and then let things follow their course. Now that the War of the One Ring has ended, Eomer is crowned King of the Mark. He is reluctant in his new role and rather lonely, but an unexpected friend will change his life as he knew it. But are things as simple as they seem or are they more complicated, bearing secrets of the Aesir?

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs.

Rating: M due to adult situations.

All text that is given in italics refers to events that happened prior to the time when the main storyline takes place.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Of Ages Past<strong>

_All things come to an end. It is the way of the universe. They die, and they are reborn. Thus has the world of man, as its inhabitants had known it for thousands of years, come to an end, by my decree._

_Once, in times ancient, man knew to be humble. Although primitive in his achievements, his faith was his guide, and he accepted a simple truth: that he was not alone in this universe. Although he had no proof, he believed that other worlds existed. Some of them he thought to be home to their gods. Others, he knew to fear. But, with the passage of time, man's arrogance grew, and he shunned away the old ways. He forgot his ancestors' wisdom, he turned away from his gods, he broke the ties with the past. New religions arose, and for long years man was swayed by their mystical power. But, ultimately, those religions waned, unable to provide man with what he truly sought. The decision of man was to walk on his own in the world, without the help, wisdom and guidance of any but himself. Truly, some of his achievements were remarkable. But his weak will quickly lead him astray. Wars and disasters plagued the Earth. Man turned against man, and the desolation that spread across this beautiful realm of man was no longer bearable._

_The world of man needed to end, and to be made anew._

_A truce I declared, and the wars among the races ceased for a while. Council I held, and representatives of all realms were invited. After a long time of discussion and quarrel, we reached a decision, and created a new Earth._

_In the middle section of the universe we decided to place it, where the Old Earth stood. On the same level as this Earth lies Jotunheim, home to the race of giants, and Vanaheim, where the gods of wisdom and fertility dwell. Below the level of Earth lies Svartalfheim, home of the dark elves, Helheim, the world of shadows and death, and Niflheim, a land of frost and ice. Above Earth's level lies Alfheim, home of the bright elves, Muspelheim, housing fire and flame, the opposite of ice. And higher of all the worlds Asgard is to be found, where the Aesir dwell._

_Midgard we named this Earth. Middle Earth men called it in their tongues._

_And then the representatives of the races stooped upon its ground, and gave breath to their creations. The bright elves of Alfheim created the Valar, which were appointed with the shaping of this new Earth, the Maiar, helpers to the Valar, and the Eldar, a race much resembling the bright elves. Fair and gentle they were, blessed with longevity and wisdom. The dark elves of Svartalfheim brought upon this world the creatures known as dwarves, lovers of dark dwellings, mighty warriors and excellent craftsmen. The giants, ancient and learned in sorcery, bestowed upon this world creatures of various shapes and behaviors. The fire giants created the men of the East, fierce and seekers of the dark arts, and the storm giants shaped lesser races of men who inhabited the hills. The frost giants created the animals, as well as formidable creatures such as trolls and mûmakil. The Vanir gave form to the men of Númenor. Tall and dark-haired they were, strong, wise and long-lived. It was a race of man destined for noble deeds and to give birth to great Kings, but its grandeur would not be easy to maintain, like the Vanir themselves, who have fallen into a lesser state than they once were. We, the Aesir, created a race of man that came to be known as the Horse Lords, akin to the Númenóreans, and yet different from them. Many of our qualities we endowed this race with. From appearance to character, they were tall and blonde, stern and grim in their demeanor, warlike and independent. After all was created, Hel blew her breath on this Earth, marking the mortality of all._

_We then withdrew from Midgard, never to descend upon it again, and returned to dwell in our own realms. The Valar and Maiar remained, to shape the world in wisdom, and once their work was finished they withdrew as well._

_A new realm was created from the ashes of the Old Earth. It was not free of flaw, as nothing in this universe is. And even I, with my near Omnipotence and Omniscience, could not foresee what its fate would be. Was this Middle Earth destined to flourish and proliferate, or was it doomed to fall into ruin? Its fate we decided to be placed in the hands of the races that now dwelt upon it._

_Thus, the First Age began…_

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><p><em>The young girl who was reading the ancient scroll now rolled it carefully and placed it back in its case. There was melancholy in her eyes. Next to her, her friend was looking at her with compassion.<em>

"_You have read the Scroll of Earth's Recreation countless times, Herja", she said and placed a soft hand upon her friend's. "Do you not tire of it?"_

"_It still fascinates me, Eir. This world, this Middle Earth… It has characteristics of all of the realms. How can it not be enticing? I wish I could visit it…" Herja sighed._

"_You know this is not possible", Eir was quick to mention, but then her eyes narrowed and she looked thoughtful. "Unless…"_

_Her friend eyed her curiously. "Unless?"_

"_Unless you join the Valkyries, Herja. They are the only ones still allowed to descend to Midgard and collect the souls of the fallen of the brave". Eir looked into Herja's eyes, which had widened at her friend's words._

_Herja looked at Eir intensely for a few moments, and then she rose nervously and walked to the balcony of the library. Below her, Asgard's golden spires gleamed under the warm sunlight. Eir followed her friend with a non-hurried pace and she came to stand by her. Herja seemed very thoughtful; her gaze was lost in the vastness of the realm._

"_I could not do it alone", she spoke after long. "Being a Valkyrie comes with tremendous responsibilities, and certain restrictions. Am I that strong?"_

"_Yes, Herja, you are. And you are not unlearned in the art of war either. Throw away the veil of fear and uncertainty! Become who you were born to be!" Eir exclaimed." But you do not have to be alone", she squeezed her friend's shoulder gently and gave her a reassuring smile. Her strawberry blonde hair gleamed under the sun and her blue eyes shone._

_Herja turned to her in surprise. "Eir?" The other girl nodded. "Would you join the Valkyries as well?"_

"_Long have I been pondering it"._

"_But, how about your dream of being a healer? Would you abandon it to join Brunhilda's host?" Herja wondered._

"_No, I do not see how being a Valkyrie would hinder my healing studies. I am not as warlike as you, Herja, but all virtues are valued. Need I mention Göndul, whose passion, besides battle noise, is her harp? Or Ölrún, who is a scholar and a student of the runes? Certainly one of healing abilities will be praised in a war host", Eir beamed, radiating with confidence._

"_Your words are wise and true", Herja commented. A small smile curved her rosy lips, and she felt more relaxed. "Do you think we could really make our dream come true?" Her emerald eyes searched her friend's for hope._

"_Yes, Herja, I do", she replied fervently and clasped the other girl's hand in hers._

"_Are you willing to make the sacrifices required? To devote yourself to mortals… and mortal love?" Herja's voice faltered._

_Eir sighed. "What good comes without sacrifice? I know what I wish. But how about you, Herja? Is your passion to know Midgard stronger than your desire to lie with gods?" Eir spoke bluntly and looked her friend in the eye._

_Herja stood and watched her friend for a long moment before answering. Her breath was caught in her throat. "Yes, I think it is"._

_Eir smiled and grabbed her hand. "Then come with me. We shall find Brunhilda, the leader of the host"._

_Herja's heart was racing in excitement and also worry, as she hurriedly followed her friend through the streets of Asgard. She had just made a decision that was meant to change her life forever. Was it a wise one, or had it been made lightly?_

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><p><strong>AN**

Herja: the name of a Valkyrie, that possibly means "devastation".

Eir: the name of a Valkyrie, assosciated with healing.

Aesir: the collective name for the gods of Asgard.

This first chapter serves as prologue. The main story begins in the next chapter.

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>The King of Rohan makes an unlikely friend!


	2. An Unlikely Friend

**Chapter 2: An Unlikely Friend**

Éomer was sitting in a chair behind his desk, scribbling hurriedly with a quill on a parchment. His brow was furrowed, his attention fully given to the document he was working on. The night had fallen hours ago, but his royal duties would often require him to continue working even after the light of the day had dimmed. A pair of candles on his desk provided him with light, but his eyes were quickly tiring.

At times like this he missed his previous life, when he was simply the Third Marshal of the Mark, and free of scrolls and pens. But after his cousin's untimely demise and his uncle's death during the War of the One Ring, all duty and responsibility had fallen upon his shoulders. But he was not groomed to be King; that was Théodred's destiny. Éomer had always considered himself a soldier, a rider among riders, nothing more. He even flinched at first when his people and his friends began addressing him as "Éomer King". But more than two years had passed now since the events of the War had ended, and Éomer had started realizing his new role, and he was struggling to live up to what was expected of him.

With a sigh he brought his hand to his eyes and rubbed them softly, trying to shake off the feeling of fatigue. Beads of sweat rested on his forehead; the hot, late summer's night did nothing to alleviate his toil. He needed to be done with that document tonight, for the council's patience was waning. Éomer wondered how his uncle could suffer these nobles, who claimed to be the voice of the people of Rohan and yet clearly considered themselves of higher importance than everyone else, save the royal family. Éomer had always disliked their demeanor, and although he had been an officer of very high rank, he never thought himself better than his brothers-at-arms in any way. And for his modesty he was loved by the people, but the nobles would secretly cast him glances of disdain, never of course putting their thoughts to words. And now that he was crowned King he knew only too well of their thoughts, and that fact made it harder for him to bear them.

But these were the ways of Rohan, and the nobles had to be regarded and their favor was necessary for the King to rule smoothly and the peace to be preserved. With another sigh he tried to shrug off the negative thoughts and resumed working on his document.

Not much time had passed before he was interrupted again by harsh dog barking and cat screaming beneath his open window. Irritated, he glanced to the window, only to witness the chased cat jumping through it and landing a few feet from him, trembling and squealing in terror. Éomer's gaze softened at the poor animal's plight, and he put his pen down.

"What is it, little fellow? Have these dogs scared you?" he inquired as if expecting an answer, and he moved to the window. He peered down, and saw two large dogs, barking and clawing on the wall. "Go away!" he roared at them threateningly, and the dogs stepped back a little, growling low in their bellies. "Begone!" he raised his voice even more, a deep frown settling on his brow, and he fiercely slammed the window shutters close. His voice and the noise made the dogs leap and run away in fright, admitting their defeat.

Éomer then turned and looked around for the cat, but she was nowhere to be seen. "Where have you hidden, kitten? Do not fear… Come out", he called to her. And then two emerald eyes shone from the darkness and the cat nimbly paced forward, abandoning her hiding place of under Éomer's bed. "There you are", he muttered and took a good look at the creature. It was a medium-sized cat, with silvery fur and bright green eyes, which were currently glued on her rescuer. Éomer smiled a little at the beautiful animal and then he moved to the table beside the fireplace, taking a platter in his hand. "Are you hungry? I suppose you are…" he said and placed the platter down on the wooden floor, near the cat. She cautiously approached it, nose hovering for a while over its contents. Éomer could not suppress a chuckle at the cat's careful moves and tilted his head to the side, watching in amusement, as she finally started devouring the leftovers of his dinner hungrily. Deciding to leave her at peace to continue her meal, he went back to his desk and the unfinished document. He was feeling better now; this sudden intrusion of his privacy had lifted his spirits somewhat.

About an hour later he rose from his seat, tucking the scroll in a scroll case and putting it aside, ready for next morning's council. He glanced at the spot where the cat was and he found her sleeping beside the empty plate. He silently bent and picked up the plate, and placed it on the table. Then he walked barefoot to the window and threw a shutter open, glad to have a nightly breeze blow on his face, causing his long hair to slightly dance about his shoulders. He breathed in deeply, the air carrying the sweet summer fragrances of flowers and grass. A few lights flickered faintly below him; Edoras was sleeping. In the distance, by the gates of the city, stood the watchtowers with their ever-vigilant guards. There was a diffuse feeling of peace and safety over the capital of Rohan, a feeling that had been absent during the events of the War, and now greatly cherished.

Éomer stood for a while, contemplating whether to shut the window close again. Quickly he decided to leave it open, so that the cat would have a way out and would not be trapped in his chamber. Furthermore, he was grateful for the light breeze that could blow through. So, he pulled a thin white curtain across the open window and then turned from it. He tossed his cotton tunic on a nearby chair and made his way onto the soft mattress, pulling the light covers up to his waist. The coolness of the pillow was soothing, and soon the young King drifted into a deep sleep.

The next morning he was surprised to be awoken by quiet meowing and a soft, warm touch on his chest. He opened his eyes, still hazed from sleep, and tried to focus on the two emeralds that were staring at him. Inadvertently, a smile rose to his lips, and he slowly raised his hand to pat the cat's head. "You are still here…" he muttered, his voice a bit hoarse from slumber. The cat responded with another meowing and pawed at his chest impatiently. Éomer sat up and pushed the strands of hair from his face. He glanced to the window. It was dawn, and he still had considerable time before the daily council assembly. Lazily he rose from the bed and sought for the water basin. He splashed some water on his face and shoulders, grateful for the cooling effect it had on his skin. After drying himself with a towel, he sought for clothes. He put on light brown breeches and a soft cotton tunic of the same color. He then proceeded to buckle his leather boots, regretting that he had to wear them while it was so hot. Untangling his hair from the night's mess, he let it fall to his shoulders in golden waves and gathered some of it into a half ponytail. His royal, dark green cloak and his crown still awaited him on the dresser. He sighed heavily at the sight. The image of his uncle wearing the crown was heavily embossed in his memory and would not fade. And there it stood, gleaming golden under the light of dawn, challenging him to be as worthy of wearing it as its predecessors. Éomer's thoughts wandered to his uncle, the late Théoden King. What a load he had carried, what a challenge it had been for him to prove himself a worthy son of his ancestors during the War of the One Ring, only now Éomer did come to get a glimpse at. Being a King was a heavy burden. And Théoden, balancing dangerously between bravery and cowardice, finally managed to choose the right path. Now his name would be hailed and sung in songs, forever for the people of Rohan to remember of their brave King, who stood against the darkness and did not falter when its shadow fell the heaviest.

But what would they remember of their new King? What was his destiny meant to be? Éomer sighed again and tried to shake off these troublesome thoughts. His dark eyes searched for the cat. There she was, sitting on her posterior legs, her glowing eyes prying at him attentively. He walked to the window and threw the shutters wide open.

"You are free. Go. Escape", he urged the animal. "At least one of us can…" he muttered bitterly. But the cat did not seem to move. She only followed his movements with her eyes and looked completely uninterested in the open window and the promise of freedom. "You are a strange one", he commented thoughtfully, but a knock on the door interrupted his musings. "Enter", he ordered, knowing it would be a servant. The door opened and an elderly woman appeared, carrying a tray with his breakfast.

"Good morning, Éomer King", she greeted him kindly, bowing her head. Éomer's features relaxed at the sight of the familiar face.

"Thank you, Cynswith. Leave the tray there", he instructed her, pointing to the table with a wave of his hand, and the woman did as she was told.

"A maid will come later to change the bedding. Does your Majesty need anything?" she inquired as she stood waiting for his dismissal, when she noticed the cat on Éomer's bed, and her eyebrows rose in surprise.

Éomer smiled slightly. "See if you can feed this cat. Take her with you to the kitchen", he said and lifted the cat off the mattress. "She invaded my chambers last night…" he continued with light amusement in his tone. "Fear not, she is not aggressive and seems to be very used to people". He approached the servant and the cat gave her a low meowing, as if confirming his words. Then she leapt off the young man's arms and pawed at the woman's skirt.

"Very well", Cynswith smiled and bowed her head. Admittedly, she was a little surprised at the King's sudden affection towards a stray animal. "Come, kitten, come. Let's see what we can feed you!" she said happily and exited the room, with the cat readily following her suit.

Éomer, now alone in his bedroom, pulled a chair to the table where the tray lay and started eating his breakfast. It was a generous one; Cynswith would always prepare the best for her King. But the deliciousness of the dish could not prevent his thoughts from returning to the council he was soon to attend, and the usual frown returned on his brow. The predominant issue of today's discussion would be the Dunlending activity on the western borders of Rohan, and it was a pressing one. Although they had drawn back to their crude dwellings in the hills and their hostilities had waned after the War had ended, small Dunlending raiding parties still plagued Rohan's remote villages every now and then, and Éomer was not going to suffer that much longer. As soon as he was finished eating his breakfast, he stood and put on his cloak and crown, making himself ready for the day. He grabbed the scroll case and swiftly strode out of the room with a determined look upon his face.

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><p><strong>Next Chapter:<strong> The King receives a letter!


	3. The King and the Rider

**Chapter 3: The King and the Rider**

When Éomer retired to his chambers later that afternoon he was surprised to see the silver-furred cat waiting for him outside the room by the door. She meowed happily as she saw him approach.

"Béma's bow, you are still here!" he exclaimed and chuckled. "Are you fond of my company so much, then?" He smiled to himself as he unlocked the door and entered. The cat jumped inside the room behind him. "Ah, I will not complain, my furry friend. Loneliness is becoming a habit of late, and I confess I do not really like it".

He proceeded to rid himself of his garments and slipped in a light robe. Then he walked close to his bed, where a bell string hung, and he pulled it twice. The cat was watching him with seemingly great interest.

"I bet you wonder what this is. Well, it is a means to call the servants", he explained with a pleasant smile.

Éomer was in a good mood. The council meeting had gone well, and the nobles did not object to dispatching a body of Rohirrim to the western borders of Rohan, where it would create an encampment in order to protect the villages from the assault of the Dunlendings. The King hoped that the presence of the Riders would intimidate the hillmen and that they would not attempt another raid. With enough luck, even skirmishes would be avoided. The small army was to remain at their appointed post for as long as Erkenbrand, Marshal of the West-Mark, considered it necessary. Above all, Éomer wished for the people to feel safe.

A knock on the door interrupted the silence of the room. "Enter", Éomer ordered and a servant maid appeared as the door opened.

"My Lord, you called? How can I be of service to you?" the maid said and bowed before her King.

"Please, prepare water for a bath, Béornwyn. Not too hot, mind you", he asked of her softly.

"As you wish, my Lord", the woman said and left.

About half an hour later she returned, having brought warm water, fresh towels, soap and oils for the King's bath. She poured the water in the wooden tub, which awaited in the sidechamber of Éomer's bedroom, and placed the rest of the stuff nearby. Then quietly she left, leaving the King to enjoy his bath in peace.

And so he did. Éomer sank in the bathtub and rubbed the soap on his chest and shoulders, washing away the sweat, the dust and the heat of the day. He poured some water on his head, damping his hair. Then he used some of the scented oils on it, making it glisten like gold again. While he was bathing, the cat was watching him apprehensively from the doorstep, not producing the slightest sound.

Once he was finished, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked back to his bedroom. It was dusk, and a light breeze was blowing in from the open window. Éomer walked close to it and stood. His damp hair adorned his shoulders with droplets of water. He cast his gaze to the White Mountains in the distance. Their highest peaks, protruding from amongst the clouds, where glazed in ice, but for it being late summer. A sigh fell upon Éomer's heart. Soon the days of sun and warmth would be gone and they would give their place to gloomy, rainy days, as autumn would cast its veil upon the lands of the Horse Lords. Éomer hoped that by the arrival of winter, the latest, the issue with the Dunlendings would have been sorted, and if no other pressing matter arose, he could perhaps pay his beloved sister, Éowyn, a visit.

They had not seen each other for a year now. She had married Faramir, Steward to King Elessar and Prince of Ithilien, last summer, and she moved with her husband to dwell in Ithilien. Soon she was with child, and a few months ago she had given birth to a boy. Elboron his parents named him. Éomer wished dearly to visit his sister and meet his nephew for the first time, but urgent matters in the Mark and his royal responsibilities would still keep him from that.

The cat's meowing interrupted his thoughts. She came and jumped upon the window sill, turning her eyes to the young man. Éomer smiled softly and patted the cat's small head. "It impresses me that you still refuse to leave. If I were you, I would run free. Now, my only freedom is when I'm on Firefoot's back, and ride across the fields… Being a King is a difficult thing, and I am not sure it is to my liking". He cast his eyes downwards, wearing a sad smile on his face, and then took a deep breath.

"The world has changed, kitten". He lightly squeezed the cat's ear absent-mindedly. "The shadow has passed, but not without leaving its marks and scars behind. Théodred and my uncle died in defense of the free peoples. Many others we lost. Grimbold, Éogar, Cuthstan… The list of casualties will only go on. Friends and brothers-at-arms, brave men, now rest below the ground". Éomer sighed at the remembrance of beloved faces he would never cast his eyes upon again. "Glad is my heart that the Shadow of the Lidless Eye has been vanquished, and yet with grief it is filled for every friend lost. But this is the way of war, kitten. And war is the province of Man".

Then the King of the Mark turned his eyes to the sky, above the mountains high. Night had fallen and the cloudless, bejeweled sky sparkled. A bright moon shone, casting its silver light on Éomer's figure. He leaned forward, propping himself on his hands on the window sill, as his eyes searched the firmament. "Look at all these stars, kitten. Silver they sparkle, more wondrous than the most precious dwarven ore, finer than any elven ornament. And yet they are so out of our reach. Does it not make you feel small, this vastness of the night sky? Are the stars our forefathers' dwellings, where they sit and gaze upon us from high above?" Éomer stood like that for a while, contemplating his own words. "Oh, eam! How can I ever hope to reach your greatness? It is a difficult task set upon my shoulders, to rule the land of Eorl with wisdom and justice. A soldier I have ever been, not a King, nor did I ever wish that. This is a life meant not for me, but for Théodred, your son. His untimely end I mourned, for a warrior more valiant and fearless I have not known". Éomer sighed again and took a step back. Then in a low voice he said, "Bless me, eam, not to falter in my path."

From time to time Éomer would direct these words to the spirit of his deceased uncle. It was something like a prayer for the young King, and it helped alleviate the accumulated stress and pressure he felt since he had been crowned King of the Mark and received the royal duties.

Feeling a bit more relieved, he walked to his bed, discarded the towel and lied down on the soft mattress. The cat jumped on the bed as well, and she came and settled beside Éomer's knee. The soft humming of the breeze against the curtain came as a lullaby to his ears, and he soon fell asleep.

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><p>Several days went by in that fashion, until autumn finally arrived, bringing with it the first rains and a slight chill in the wind. The summer-scorched land drank the precious water greedily. The air was filled with the new aromas of damp soil and grass and of fallen leaves, and the folk of Rohan gradually abandoned their summer reverie of strolling outdoors, and chose to remain in their homes more often now.<p>

Erkenbrand left for the Westfold with a force of around seven hundred men. The local people were very pleased to see the Rohirrim arrive, and the hope in their hearts was renewed, especially when they realized that the Second Marshal of the Mark himself was leading this small campaign. Of course, the scarce Dunlending activity was not a matter as huge as to demand the presence of an officer of highest rank. But Éomer deliberately assigned this mission to Erkenbrand, wishing to show the people of the remote villages of the Westfold that their welfare mattered no less than that of the people in Edoras. And he was not one to underestimate any enemy anyway. Therefore, Erkenbrand's presence would serve every aspect of the cause effectively.

The Marshal would often write and send reports to Éomer. Generally, since the arrival of the Rohirrim force in the Westfold, things were going smoothly. Only a couple of skirmishes had arisen among the Riders and the men of Dunland, which the first ones repelled easily enough. In the latter days, the Dunlendings seemed to have fallen silent and inactive, and Erkenbrand estimated that they had finally decided to retreat well behind the Fords of Isen. Given their weakened state, it was unlikely that they were plotting an organized assault of greater scale. However, the Marshal did not wish to take any chances, and reckoned the Rohirrim force should remain encamped in the western frontier for a couple of months more; Éomer knew Erkenbrand as a bold and wise man, who did not like taking risks lightly. After the borders would have been secured, the main force would return to Hornburg, where the Second Marshal's headquarters were, and only the outposts would remain.

One rainy day in early October, together with another of Erkenbrand's reports, the King received another letter as well. To the King's pleasant surprise, it was from his sister, Éowyn. Éomer's excitement was so great that he did not wait to reach his chamber to read the letter, but he unfolded it as soon as the council had finished its work for the day, while he was still sitting on his throne in the main hall of Meduseld.

These were the words that Éowyn had written to her brother:

_My Dearest Brother,_

_How do you fare? Greatly I have missed you and our land, the duties of us both and my pregnancy keeping us apart all this time._

_I, for my part, am fine and in good health, and with great gladness I write to you on this day, for my husband and I wish to invite you to visit us in our Home in Ithilien! Elboron, your nephew, is eager to meet you. You will adore him, my dear Éomer. Blonde is his hair, like that of our kin, and he has his father's keen, grey eyes._

_Forgive me for having to keep this letter short, but we Rohirrim have never been a people of many words… And it is time to feed your hungry nephew!_

_Eagerly I shall expect your answer, although I must admit I have already started the preparations for your visit!_

_Your loving sister,_

_Éowyn_

Éomer's heart sang in joy at the news. Long had he wished to visit his sister, but he was worried whether their duties would allow it to happen any time soon. Now Éowyn had just extended an invitation to him, which meant that he need not worry for her part. Hoping that he would be able to leave Edoras as soon as the Dunlending issue concluded, he grabbed a parchment, pen and ink to write a letter to his sister and explain the current situation to her, along with expressing his hope to be able to visit her by the coming of the winter. Perhaps they could spend Yule together; that was something Éomer would much like.

With dreams and hopes in his mind, he jumped off his throne and, tucking the letter carefully in a pocket of his tunic, he quickly strode to the stables. The rain had stopped and he would take advantage of that to take Firefoot for a ride across the plains. His spirit was lifted, his heart was light; and he wished to feel free again, to be simply a rider, like he once was.

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><p><strong>AN**

Béma: the Vala Oromë the Hunter, whom the Rohirrim highly valued and called Béma.

Eam: maternal uncle (Old English).

Dunlendings: the men of Dunland (meaning Hill Land in Rohirric), a land neighboring Rohan. They were wild men, used to living in harsh conditions and were hostile to the Rohirrim.

Erkenbrand: Marshal of the West-Mark (Second Marshal). Erkenbrand is a name that comes from two Old English words: Eorcan (meaning "precious") and Brand (meaning "sword").

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>A mysterious woman appears, upsetting the heroes; and we also get a peek at the home of the Gods!


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